Aftermath
by Menorah
Summary: Takes place shortly after "a brave new world." Claire/Sylar Romance. Changed rating to "M" to reflect chapter 10, however all other chapters to date are rated "T".
1. Chapter 1

***Disclaimer* I own none of these characters. All characters belong to NBC (to my knowledge).**

**Sorry for the long hiatus. I'm back now though and am going to work on finishing this story. I edited chapters 1 - 11 so that they read a bit better, and I have added chapter 12. Chapter 13 is almost done and is on its way as well. Enjoy!**

_Chapter 1_

Claire couldn't get the thought of that kiss out of her head, and she despised herself for it.

Sure, in the weeks after the carnival incident Peter had tried to convince her... convince EVERYONE that Sylar had changed, but she wasn't buying it. You can't go from a mass murderer to a poor, misunderstood "hero" overnight. Not a chance.

He'd come to her college, asked for her help. Told her he wanted to change and that she was the one to help him – made proof by her face in ink on his arm.

Which was just kind of creepy. _My face tattooed on a serial killers arm. Great_.

But he had saved Peter's girlfriend at the carnival. And probably many others in the process. Still… one good deed cannot right a thousand wrongs.

It couldn't bring her birth parents back from the dead.

The carnival. Her father was not the only one to regret her impulsive actions that day. Her "coming out" had turned out to be a little more trouble than it had been worth after all. And now she couldn't show her face on campus without getting swarmed by reporters, students, stalkers, etc. She couldn't show her face _anywhere_, for that matter.

Which was why her few meager belongings were in boxes around her, waiting to be unpacked into the shiny new apartment that her father was generous enough to finance. Her shiny new prison cell where she would hide away from the world.

_At least until the world stopped trying to dissect her_. Claire shuddered at the thought. A thought which brought back memories of trauma, pain and fear…. Of being someone _else's_ living science experiment… spayed on the table… the horrifying tickle of fingers delving into her brain…

Sylar.

And after all that he'd done to her. The torture, the fear. Killing those she loved. Her FATHER, for Gods-sakes! Why was she still thinking of that kiss? The memory had crawled into her brain and taken root, refusing to be ousted.

In the classroom and against her will, she struggled against him. But to her horror, she'd also struggled against her own excitement and arousal. How sick was _that_? And now she couldn't stop thinking about it.

God, she _was_ twisted. Maybe she and Sylar had more in common than she'd wanted to believe after all.

Claire fell onto her bed. One of the few pieces of furniture she had in her sparse apartment, bought of course, by her father. Well, adopted father, Noah Bennett. Already dressed for bed in a pair of cotton shorts and her favorite pink cami, she crawled under the covers and closed her eyes. Perhaps things would make more sense in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 2_

Claire snuggled into the warm body pressed against her, not wanting to wake up and leave its comfort. She was enjoying the feel of the solid chest beneath her cheek and the arm wrapped around her too much.

_Waitaminute. That's not right! _

Panicking, Claire bolted out of bed to face her intruder.

Or at least attempted to. In reality, she was held firmly in place by a very strong arm around her waist.

"Good morning sunshine. 'Bout time you woke up."

_That voice. No! It couldn't be!  
_

Claire pried open her eyes to confirm her worst fear. "What the hell are _you _doing here?" She demanded at Sylar, who was only staring back at her in amusement while she struggled.

_He's amused/? Oh god. This cant be good._ She couldn't help but wonder if he was there to kill her. Again. Her body went rigid with fear.

"Well, if you'd just calm down for a minute, Claire, I'll tell you."

She hated the way that he looked at her. Like he was mocking her. Humoring her. Although she supposed he was, given that he could end her in an instant if he chose to. Claire knew that not even her ability to regenerate would her when Sylar decided that he finally wanted her dead.

She forced her body to relax. She could get out of this, but she needed logic and reason on her side, not fear. She forced herself to take a calming breath. Things could be worse. At this point he wasn't even using his telekinesis on her. Claire knew from experience that once he broke out that power, he'd be able to do whatever he wanted with her until… well, until he got bored of playing with his Claire-puppet.

The fear bubbled to the surface again even as she tried to turn it to anger. But there was a _lot_ of fear. "Are you going to kill me?"

He chuckled. "Oh Claire. You keep asking me that. Every time we see each other, in fact. I'm starting to think you'd LIKE me to kill you. Is that what you want Claire?"

Her panic increased tenfold.

Sylar smiled, apparently taking note of her increased fear. "I'm here to talk, that's all." His voice was soothing, which just served to make Claire that much more nervous.

"Talk?" Yeah right. Since when had he only ever wanted to talk? Control, maybe. Humiliate, yes. But just _talk_? Claire's anger finally became the more powerful of her surging emotions, and with it, her world began to make a bit more sense.

"Well, if you've come to _talk_, you sure picked a funny place to do it." She said sarcastically, gesturing toward the rumpled bed.

A dark thought crept in then and she blanched. Had they been… _cuddling_?

He sighed. "I know. But you're a difficult girl to catch." He smirked. "And I know that from experience. But that's neither here nor there now. _Now,_ I have my reasons for being _here_. Which I'll explain if you just listen."

Reasons? Sure. Torture, mayhem, destruction. She was sure they were all very good reasons... To him. Apparently this was his brand of "fun."_ Bored? Might as well go mess with the blond. She's always good for a few screams…_

He continued, oblivious to her thoughts - or more likely, just choosing to ignore them. "I know that it was just a few weeks ago for you that I sought you out at your school. But for me, it was over five years ago. I spent a very long time locked away in my mind with only Peter for company." Melancholy was an odd look on the serial killer.

"Claire, I did a lot of thinking in that time. The things Peter and I talked about…"

"I just bet…" She sneered. Not really caring but curious despite herself. _This should be interesting_…

He ignored her. "Claire, you and I have always been connected. Even before I took your power, and even more so now. That's why it's important to me that you to know that I've changed. I'm not that person anymore."

"Well, you have a funny way of proving it," Claire snapped angrily, "considering you broke into my apartment and are once again holding me hostage."

Sylar brought his mouth closer to her ear so she could catch the words he just about whispered. "Now Claire, once you have the chance to look, you'll find that I technically didn't _break_ into anything, but that's a different point."

Claire had stopped struggling and was holding herself ridged, trying hard not to touch any part of him, which was made very difficult given the fact that his mouth was a hairsbreadth away from nuzzling her ear and his arm was still around her waist, pinning her to his side while they had their nice little "chat."

Escape. That was the first priority.

"Uh ok…. You want to talk? Fine, we can talk. But can we do it with… you know…a little space?"

He drew back his head to look her in the eye, sighed and smiled. "No."

"Wait. What? No?" It had seemed like a simple request. Did he really just refuse it? Did he _enjoy_ being this creepy?

"That would defeat the purpose, and as fun as sparing verbally always is with you – and I have to admit, I have always had a fondness for these cat and mouse games we play - I'd like to get straight to the point, and I find you much easier to control right where you are. Less able to… run away." He paused. "Or try to, at least. We know you never really get far when you run, but it is extra effort for me to stop you, and I'm tired today. Be considerate Claire."

_Considerate? He had to be joking!_

She'd had it with the suspense. He was either going to kill her or continue to torment her. Might as well just get on with it then. "Ok, then, tell me. What is _the purpose_?" she sneered sarcastically.

He ignored her anger completely and instead continued to act as if they were having a nice afternoon conversation over tea and cake. "When we last spoke, It was determined that you and I had quite a bit in common. Many similarities."

He looked down at her and she jerked her head in acknowledgement. He was always bringing up their supposed "similarities," and even though she'd realized long ago that he was probably right, she still refused to admit that to _him_. The last time this conversation had taken place it had been at her school. She remembered it well.

And she also remembered the kiss… _gah! Damn it! SO not the time or place!_

"Well, as I said," he began, "five years is a long time to think. And I really think I've made some self-improvements in that time." He smirked. "Haven't killed anyone in…well, ages. I've discovered… Turns out I _like_ being the hero. And I _want_ to be a good person."

Claire froze. Well,_ that_ was unexpected.

"Yeah, right. Like I believe a word you say." She hissed. "You're a murderer!"

"NO!" His voice finally rose, just a bit, proving that she'd gotten to him. "I WAS a murderer. But now I'm trying to be a better person. But my success in that department depends on you, Claire."

Claire snorted, "And how is that?"

"You see, despite our similarities, we _are_ still very different. You've always had people around you to care for you. Love you. Help you. I realize that's what I've lacked in my life. And, that's what I need to help me be a better person."

This conversation was defiantly getting weird. Well, ok. _Weirder_. "And what? You expect me to _care_ for you?"

"I didn't say that. But out of everyone, you are the one person who has always been honest with me. Never tried to manipulate me. Never lied. You may hate me, but that feeling is an honest emotion. And the picture on my arm says that you're the one to help me." She looked down at the tattoo, her own face staring back up at her. _Just freaky..._

"So to that point, and to keep myself on the "even keel" as they say, I've decided that you and I are going to be spending a lot more time together."

_Uh oh. What? That couldn't be good_.

"You see, what I lack right now is companionship. A good influence. Someone to talk with. Everyone needs to have contact with others. Its how the human race operates."

"Are you serious? You and I could _never_ be friends. What makes you think I'd even consider spending time with you?" Claire was outraged at the very idea.

"Ah, now there's the kicker. 'Never' is a long time, Claire. We have years… even hundreds of years maybe, to sort that all out. But for now, I imagine you'll agree to it because you love your friends and family and you don't want to see them get hurt."

Claire scoffed "and here you said you've _changed_. You haven't changed at all! You're still threatening my loved ones. "And in case you've forgotten, you've already killed quite a few of my friends and family, you sick bastard!"

"I haven't forgotten," he replied quietly. And whether you believe me or not, I DO regret many of the actions of my past." There was no way that Claire was going to believe that look in his eyes was remorse. No way in hell…

He grabbed her hand as she tried again futilely to push herself away from him. "And no Claire, I'm not threatening anyone. I'm just stating fact. I _have_ changed. And I _want_ to be a good person, but I also know I need help to do it. And I'm afraid that if I don't get that help, I might…backslide."


	3. Chapter 3

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 3_

"So what do you want from me?" She was almost afraid to ask…

"Nothing more than you'd willingly give to any friend." He replied. "Well… maybe not _nothing more…_ But for now, just the basics. Companionship. Someone to… bounce idea's off of."

"What, so you want me for some kind of weird serial killer sounding board? As in 'hey Claire, do you think I should kill my victim through decapitation or mutilation today?'" Some part of Claire's mind thought that maybe it wasn't healthy for her to bait the crazed sociopath, but another part of her was kind of put out that her snarky comments didn't even seem to register with him.

He sighed and continued, as if the conversation were difficult for him. "You see, I find that my thoughts get… darker… in the evenings and especially during sleep. My mind wanders when I'm alone. And not to good places, Claire. I need a distraction. I need you to help me keep those thoughts away."

"And how do you propose I do that?" Claire asked, knowing she would not like the answer.

"We're going to spend some time together."

Claire blanched. _Quality time with a killer. Could things get any worse?_

"So what? You want us to rent movies and eat pizza together? Maybe do each others hair? I'll paint your toenails if you paint mine, kind of deal?"

"Perhaps the movies and pizza, but don't even think about coming near me with a bottle of polish."

_Was he joking_?

He cleared his throat. "Claire, I've lost touch with humanity. Maybe I never had any, I don't know. But I think maybe I need that human contact to keep the dark at bay."

"Oh, you've _definitely_ lost touch with something…

Or…" He interrupted, looking thoughtfully at her, "maybe it's just because I already have your power so there's nothing left to tempt the hunger where you're concerned."

Well, that kind of made sense, she supposed. So why was she feeling a little offended by the comment?

"Regardless, last night here with you, the hunger was truly silent. And for the first time in a long time, I actually got a decent night's sleep."

Geez. How long had he been here last night? And how had she not woken up? "Well great then. Go find yourself a prostitute, because if you're looking for a bedmate, I'm so not your girl."

He chuckled. "Oh Claire. You've got the wrong idea. If I wanted _that_, I could have taken it from you at any time. I'm not saying I would turn you down if you offered, but for now, all I am looking for is companionship. Surely that's not too much to ask?"

It was, and he knew it was. But he also knew she couldn't say no. Because what if she _did_ and he "backslid" and killed her friends and family? She could never live with herself.

But how could she live with herself if she let him into her life? He was a _murderer_ for chistsake! And he wanted her to be his BFF?

"It's not like you've left me much of a choice. I loath you, you know." Her voice was weak though, and her words carried little power. She was so tired of this constant battle with him, and just worn thin.

He smiled, "Oh but you don't Claire. And I'm going to enjoy proving it to you." And with that, his grip on her loosened. To her surprise and discomfort, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the top of her head, and then slid off the bed.

Claire watched in silence as he gathered his shirt from the back of the chair, the muscles of his back rippling as he casually threw it on, not even bothering to tuck it into his sleep-rumpled jeans. She noticed, much to her disgust, that for someone who didn't do a lot of "heavy lifting" (at least with his body) he was surprisingly muscular. Which seemed totally unfair.

Sylar turned towards her again and Claire felt her cheeks heat. She quickly turned her scrutiny into a glower. "I picked up some eggs and fruit on the way in last night. After I shower I'll start breakfast. And Claire," he said, casting a look back at her through hooded eyes, "I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful relationship."

Her next thought as she watched him walk from the room was, "_Good god. The Psychopaths gone grocery shopping. And he was going to COOK?"_


	4. Chapter 4

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 4_

The start of a beautiful relationship, he'd said. And now he was using her shower and talking about making her breakfast. Domestic bliss… mmm hum.

_Yeah right. Not a chance in _hell_!_

Claire was out of bed like a bolt the moment she heard the bathroom door close. Throwing off the cotton shorts and the tank top she'd slept in, she quickly got dressed, not even bothering to pay attention to what she put on (which wasn't like her at all), instead just grabbing the first thing her searching hands encountered in the back of her closet.

She gave herself a brief once over in the floor length mirror by her dresser. Jeans and her favorite grey sweater. That worked. She didn't even bother to brush her hair, but once dressed, dashed through the bedroom and towards the front door.

Claire had no idea what Sylar was up to _this_ time, but she wasn't naïve. This _had_ to be some kind of weird new game he was playing. Just another way to torment her. And if that were the case, then the safest course of action for her was to get far, far away from him.

And then, and _only_ then, would she maybe she'd start to think about the things he'd said.

She slammed into the front door at full speed and scrambled to undo the deadbolts, but much to her consternation, they wouldn't budge. Neither would the knob. Had he somehow locked her in? She didn't know much about his telekinetic powers. Didn't he have to be in the same room for them to work?

Claire ran to the first of two windows in the living room. Even though her apartment was on the fifth floor she could still jump if she could just get one open. After all, it's wasn't like she'd hurt herself.

After much prying though, she was forced to admit that like the door, the windows too were sealed tight.

_This is ridiculous… _

Growing desperate, Claire hurled herself at the long and narrow pane of glass, expecting to crash through to the pavement below.

_What the hell? _

Sitting on the floor where she'd landed when she'd bounced off the window, Claire rubbed her head, her fingers gingerly probing the bump that was even how healing.

Well, _that_ had been unexpected. How had that not worked?

Picking herself up from the hardwood floor, Claire reached behind her and picked up a stone bookend that was sitting atop one of the still unopened moving boxes, and proceeded to slam it into the window as hard as she could.

_Bookend? Since when did SHE own a bookend?_

The window twitched, but nothing else. Not even a crack.

_Well, damn. _

Realizing that escape was becoming less likely by the moment, Claire took a moment to think about her situation. It was no surprise that her thoughts turned immediately to weapon procurement.

She'd learned much in the last few years of her life, from both Sylar and her father. The top lesson being, if you're in a hopeless situation, it's always best to have a weapon.

And well, didn't all of her situations seem a bit hopeless lately?

Claire paused. Maybe she was being irrational and a tad paranoid. Maybe he'd really meant what he'd said? Maybe he could reform, and wouldn't that be nice? No more running? No more living in fear? No more people with their heads cut open?

And she _had_ told him that she'd agreed to his plan… Maybe she should give him a chance?

She mentally slapped herself. What was she thinking? Yes, she'd agreed. But she'd agreed under threat of those dearest to her. And, if he had _changed_ as much as he'd said he had, would he really have locked her in her own apartment? Threatened her family? This was SYLAR after all. And the Sylar she knew was a cold-blooded killer.

No. She knew that the moment she gave him a "chance" it would be her downfall. Sylar was unpredictable, especially when it came to Claire, and that meant he couldn't be believed. He might be saying that he'd "changed" one moment, but the next thing she knew, he'd have her up against the wall with his fingers knuckle-deep in her brain and her scalp at his feet. And after he'd had his fun, he'd put her back together again.

He always put her back together again…

_Yup, a weapon. Best to be prepared. Just in case…_

Dropping the bookend, she ran to the kitchen and grabbed a narrow carving knife. _Because why bludgeon when you can stab? _Thinking_, _she carefully drew it up inside the sleeve of her sweater for the "right moment." _Well, it had worked with the pencil… _

…_kind of… Hum…Maybe he wouldn't remember that… _

Hearing the shower shut off, Claire realized she was out of time. A thought occurred to her and she began a frantic search for her cell phone, overturning boxes and piles of half-unpacked clothing in her haste. She would call her father. He would know what to do. Noah Bennet always trying to save his little girl.

_Well, when he wasn't too busy doing other things like chasing down specials, that is…_

If only she could remember where she'd put it.

"Looking for this?"

Claire turned to see her tiny red cell phone in Sylars hand. He was smirking. Again.

_Well crap. _

He was fresh out of the shower, and had even shaved. Claire noticed that he was wearing clean black jeans and a black knit sweater that hugged his body. Where'd he get those? She hadn't seen him with a bag…

Claire had to give it to him, Sylar did have style. _Gah! Again with the thoughts! So not right!_

"Sylar! Um, I was just going to check my voice messages." She stated and winced. Her excuse sounded weak, even to her.

He smirked. "Of course you were. And call your daddy while you're at it." He tossed the phone at her, which she caught with one hand. "Go ahead. But I should warn you Claire, he already knows I'm here."

She glanced at him in shock. Impossible!

"Who do you think gave me the key?"


	5. Chapter 5

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 5_

Claire couldn't believe it. There was no way her father would let Sylar in the same room with her, let alone into her apartment. She stated as much.

"Call him and ask." He said, rather nonchalantly, gesturing toward the phone she was now clutching like a lifeline.

"Don't worry Claire. You're father didn't _completely_ sell you out. In fact, Noah felt very similarly to the way you did about my proposition at first. But when I explained my logic, he became very… receptive. Again, just like you did."

"No...I don't believe you. He would never let you anywhere near me!" He had to be lying.

Ignoring her, he continued, "and I suppose it didn't hurt my cause when Peter pointed out that I was in the best position to 'protect you' now that you've gone and exposed yourself. And as always, your daddy's alllll about protecting you. Well… mostly, anyway. When it's convenient for him." Claire shot him a dirty look even though she had been thinking similar thoughts about Noah Bennett just a few minutes ago.

Sylar laughed, apparently amused by some twisted joke which likely made sense only to him. Claire really didn't see what was so funny.

As he was talking, Sylar had walked into the small kitchen nook and had begun rummaging around, apparently looking for cooking implements. Having never really lived on her own before, and not even being fully unpacked yet, her cupboards were still pretty bare. After much searching he managed to find a rather battered looking skillet (_how'd that get there?),_ and grinning in success, he placed it on the stove. Claire watched in surreal fascination as her worst enemy cracked eggs into the pan and then began slicing the fruit to make her breakfast.

He paused briefly at the cutting block and she prayed he didn't notice that there was one knife missing.

Claire looked at the phone clutched in her hand. Her ringer had been off. 13 missed calls. 12 from Noah, and one from her traitor of an uncle, Peter.

Her father had called. _Maybe Sylar had been telling the truth. But… why would her father do this to her? It made no sense! _

If he actually _knew_ Sylar was here… if he had truly been worried about her, he would have been beating down her door first thing…. _Wouldn't he?_

But what if it _was_ true? Claire remembered how Noah and Sylar had worked together before when they'd thought Sylar had been more controllable. He'd had no problem teaming up with the killer then. Or at least it had seemed that way to her.

Claire knew that her father was always looking for ways to control, and if he thought this would help him keep Sylar under control, then he just might have encouraged it. But would he even go as far as giving up his own daughter if it met his purposes?

Probably. Yet she still couldn't hate him.

There was a knock at the door, and Claire and Sylar both turned toward the sound. Claire watched as the deadbolts turned and the door slowly opened itself.

Speak of the devil.

* * *

Noah Bennet was standing outside the door of his daughter's new apartment trying to figure out exactly how he'd gotten there. Oh, not there as in New York, but "there" as in "this place in his life." How had he managed to screw it up so badly?

First his wife and son. His dog. And now even Claire, who had already forgiven him so much. Was it worth it?

Noah remembered the call he'd gotten from Angela, just a few days ago. She had something "urgent" to tell him. Didn't she always?

Of course he'd listened. At first. But he'd refused to believe what she was telling him. Sylar a "hero?" Sure, Noah was familiar with how Sylar had helped at the Carnival, but one non-murderous act did _not_ make that killer a hero.

And now Angela was telling him that Sylar would protect Claire, and even one day would help to save the world. But ONLY if he had Claire's help now. The world would end if Sylar and Claire didn't become close? Noah didn't think so.

If Claire and Sylar ever _did_ become close (not that Claire would let _that_ happen), his world would end anyway.

Plus, they had saved the world plenty of times now without Sylar's help, just proving that they didn't need him. If it came to that, they would figure something else out. Hell, most of the time it was _Sylar_ they were saving the world _from_.

Noah had hung up on Angela then. Her words were just too ridiculous to listen to any further. Out of earshot, out of mind.

If only it had been that easy. But things never were. Especially where his daughter was concerned.

Peter and Matt had paid a visit to his apartment the very next day - yesterday now. Apparently they'd been sent by Mama Patrelli. _And_ they'd brought Sylar with them. Matt looked a bit upset, and Noah couldn't say he blamed him.

Peter had explained to Noah how Sylar was a "good guy" now. Something about spending five years with him and, oh how he'd changed. Peter went on and on, but Noah wasn't convinced. People don't change. Not a chance. No one went from being a cold blooded murderer to a "hero" practically overnight. They just didn't.

Noah had tried to kick them out then. He didn't have time for their bullshit. Now that his Caire-bear had exposed her abilities to the world, he had bigger problems to worry about. For example, what to do about the government officials who had visited the other day trying to find her. Apparently, they "just wanted to talk," but Noah was quite familiar with that "talking" meant to this group of people. More like "we just want to peel the flesh off your daughter 100 times to watch her regenerate before we perform a multitude of other nasty experiments on her."

He didn't think so. Not HIS daughter. Noah had sent them on a wild goose chase to buy a bit of time. He knew though, that when they didn't find what they were looking for in Odessa, they'd be back. And they'd probably bring friends.

Parkman had started talking. Why was he even here? He hated Sylar just about as much as Noah did.

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Bennet, I had a hard time believing it myself. It's hard to believe it even still, but what Peter's saying is true. I've been inside Sylars mind. There is a desire to change. Things _have_ changed… in there already. But he needs help. He needs Claire.

Noah had become enraged "Why Claire? Why my daughter? Hasn't he done enough to her?" He took small pleasure in watching that jab hit home. Sylar winced.

"Because," Peter continued, "She calms the hunger for him. Why do you think he's always been drawn to her? He already _has_ her power. So why keep coming back? It's because his mind quiets when she's around." Peter smiled. "Plus, we all know Claire can't be hurt, so she's the best one of us to do this."

"Cant be hurt? Maybe not physically, but she can be hurt emotionally. Hasn't she been tortured enough by this man?" Noah was angry, but he was also thinking. He was nothing if not a practical man. If Sylar _was_ on their side, it would sure make life a lot easier. For everyone including Claire.

Still, he wouldn't just give his daughter to this killer. He _couldn't_.

Sylar had spoken next. Had apologized for the things he'd done – as if Noah believed him – and had promised to never hurt Claire again. Talked about "companionship" and said he was scared of "backsliding" (or something like that). Said he didn't want to hurt anyone else. He made a convincing argument. But Noah knew what a good liar Sylar was. Almost as good as Noah himself.

Noah turned to Parkman. "Matt, can you assure me that no harm will come to my daughter? I want you to look in there," Noah made a random gesture towards Sylars skull, "and tell me the truth."

Matt turned to Sylar, who just jerked his head in consent.

Noah watched Parkman's face closely as he closed his eyes, and was surprised when Matt opened them again almost as quickly. What also surprised him was the look on Parkman's face. Was it surprise? Amusement? Sylar looked a bit nervous. What had Matt seen?

Noah asked him as much.

"Well, Bennet, I can give you one absolute. Claire will be safe with Sylar."

It had taken some more convincing from Peter, Parkman and even Sylar, but finally Noah had ended up agreeing (although he wasn't one hundred percent convinced that Parkman didn't help a bit in _that_ area as well), and had even given Sylar the key to her new apartment. In for a penny, in for a pound…

Noah had wanted to call Claire then and there, but Peter had managed to convince him that Sylar needed to start building the bridges with Claire himself, without their interference.

Still, that that lasted only until they'd walked out the door. The moment they were gone, he'd made the call. And then he made it again and again and again, with no response. Had he been wrong? Had Sylar done something to Claire after all, and was Noah now to blame for his daughter's pain and suffering?

Noah raised his hand and knocked on his daughter's door.

* * *

"Dad!" Claire ran to her father and flung herself in his arms.

"Claire. How are things going here?" He asked, pulling her to his side and casting a look full of distrust toward Sylar. Noah assessed the tiny apartment quickly. No blood, no holes in the walls, and was Sylar… making breakfast?

"Good morning Noah. Would you like to join us for breakfast?" Noah gave Sylar a dirty look at the offer. Peter may be best friends with the killer now, but Claire's father was not so forgiving.

Noah looked down at his daughter. He was angry. Angry at himself, and angry at her for putting him in this position by exposing her abilities. Angry that the best person to protect her now was this killer.

Claire looked at her father. He didn't seem nearly as concerned about her situation as he should have. "Dad?"

"Claire?" He repeated. "Is everything ok here?'

Claire frowned. No "Claire-Bear?" Claire steeled herself so she wouldn't cry. Her father had been more than cold to her since she'd exposed herself to the crowd and cameras. Exposed them all.

On some level, she guessed she couldn't blame him. He'd told her she'd "broken his heart."

With a look of deep sadness mixed with anger, she uttered one word "why?"

"Why what, Claire? Why am I ok with Sylar being here?" As much as he wanted to, Noah knew he couldn't tell her he wasn't. He was not ok with it at all. But he couldn't do anything to reinforce her desire to leave. Noah moved away from his daughter and went to stand by the window. "Its not like you gave me much choice, you know."

Oh. So this was _her_ fault. _Of course it was…._

"When you exposed yourself, you put a lot of people in danger, Claire. Your friends, your family. You put yourself in danger."

"From who?" She asked, rather naively, trying desperately at that moment not to think of why she'd just had to quit college.

"From everyone, Claire. Our government. Other countries governments. The military. Ambitious biology students, you name it. There isn't a scientist alive who _wouldn't_ like to get his hands on the amazing regenerating girl."

"Your father has a point you know. You should listen to him."

As one, father and daughter turned irritated looks toward the nook. Claire watched Sylar chop the cantaloupe and put it on a plate before she bothered to respond to her father. Just as she'd decided what to say though, Noah continued.

"I'm going to be gone for a while. Trying to clean up some of this mess."

"What…?"

He sighed and cut her off, mid question, "Claire, I may not like Sylar. I don't like him at all, in fact…"

The chopping sounds coming from the kitchen paused. "I'm right here, you know. I can hear you..."

"And of course I can never forgive or forget what he's done…"

A put-out sigh came from the direction of the kitchen as the chopping resumed…

"…but I'm convinced that what Peter said about him is true. He's trying to change, and frankly, Claire, we can't seem to beat him, so we need him on our side. And if you're the best chance of that happening, well then, I'm asking for your help."

Claire was angry. How could he _do_ this to her! Not that she was surprised. She'd stopped being surprised by her father long ago. But it still hurt.

"Listen Claire, I know its asking a lot, but all he wants is friendship. Nothing more. Matt seemed convinced of his sincerity." Noah prayed he was telling the truth. "Claire, I have your brother to think about. He's not special like you. He can die. I have to think about protecting the rest of our family. And not just from people with abilities" Noah cast a sideways look at Sylar before continuing. "You're special, and people are going to think that you're brother is special too. It doesn't matter that you're not related by blood…."

She thought about Lyle, who had been more neglected by their father than _she_ had.

"Sylar can protect you here. Its part of the agreement."

_The agreement? _Claire couldn't help as tears welled in her eyes. So her father _had_ bartered her to the serial killer. Like she was an old, worn baseball card or something.

Noah continued, "Sylar will keep you safe from all of the people hell-bent on dissecting you. And in return, you'll help him stay human."


	6. Chapter 6

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 6_

After a painful and frustrating conversation Noah had left on his "next big mission to save the world," leaving his precious daughter all alone with a killer. As soon as the door had shut behind him, Claire had excused herself to use the restroom, stopping on the way back to slip the purloined knife under the mattress of her bed. Never knew when she might need it.

Now she and Sylar sat at the small coffee table in the living room eating the breakfast that Sylar had prepared. Well, _he_ was eating. _She_ was pretending to eat while she thought frantically about her situation. And while she thought, she stared. Claire didn't feel comfortable taking her eyes off him for even a minute. God knows what he might do….

Eyes glued on Sylar, Claire mechanically brought another fork full of egg to her mouth… and missed.

Claire gagged as egg went up her nose. Dropping the fork, she sneezed as she reached for a napkin, all the while praying to any god who would listen that Sylar hadn't seen that. _Geez, how embarrassing. Caught staring _and_ making a fool of myself._

Sylar smirked. "Tastes better if you eat it through your mouth, you know…"

Claire pointedly ignored him and retrieved her fork from where it had landed on the floor. She casually wiped it on her napkin and took another bite, this time making sure to be more careful with what she was doing. She'd discovered much to her surprise, that breakfast was actually pretty tasty. Who knew that serial killers could cook?

Claire's eyes rose to Sylar's face again and she watched him eat through hooded lids. It seemed like he didn't have a care in the world. She felt that he was enjoying his food a bit too much.

His enjoyment irritated her.

_God this is an awkward, uncomfortable silence._

Sylar looked up from his plate and met her eyes. He'd known she'd been watching him again, and had apparently decided on that moment to break the silence.

"Claire, Claire, Claire. What can I do to make you trust me?" The question was asked so softly it was almost a whisper.

Claire tensed.

Sylar put down his fork and gave Claire a probing look. "I know. I could give you a gift." He said thoughtfully. "All pretty girls like gifts."

_A gift? What kind of gift would a killer give?_ Thoughts of decapitated puppies danced in Claire's head. She quickly banished them.

"But what would Claire like?' He moved closer to her on the couch, head cocked to the side, gaze never leaving her face.

"Um, for you to stop talking about me in the third person?" she retorted snarkily…Seriously, hadn't he seen any number of horror movies? Only serial killers and crazy people talk like that….

_Oh…right._

"I know. I could _fix_ you. Would you like that, Claire?"

Ok, as nice as her name sounded when he said it, his constant use of it was really starting to creep her out. _Wait… _fix_ her?_

Sylar reached a hand toward Claire and she cringed, but all he did was draw a gentle finger across her forehead, sweeping blond bangs out of her eyes in the process.

"You can't feel pain, sure. Which is probably a good thing considering all of the scrapes you get yourself into…" his voice trailed off and he smiled fondly, "but if you can't feel pain, you can't feel much else either, can you?"

Sylar trailed his finger down her cheek and under her chin, and Claire repressed a shiver. From fear or excitement, she refused to contemplate. "Can you feel pleasure, Claire?"

She refused to answer him, although it was obvious that he already knew the answer. And he also knew that she was considering his offer. If he _could_ fix her. And she could _feel_ again. Feel all of those wonderful things she'd been missing out on. Pain, pleasure…pleasure, pain.

But at what price?

"I'm good at fixing things," he stated with a smirk.

Of course he was. Knowing how things worked had been his first power. And if a person knew how things worked, they could fix them…. But they could also break them…

"And it would only be fair," he continued "since I'm the one that broke you in the first place."

Flashbacks of lying flat on the table, helpless and immobile as he cut open her head assailed her.

So as tempting as the idea of feeling again was, Claire remained silent. She knew what being "fixed" would entail. He'd have to open her head up again, and then she'd be vulnerable. _To_ vulnerable. To him. Not again. She couldn't bare it.

No. Not for anything would she let him poke around in her brain again. Not even for the return of what she wanted most.

Her eyes turned dark and she jerked her head away from his hand. How dare he tempt her with something she wanted so badly, but knew she'd never accept? "If you think I'd let you cut me open and have another go, you're out of your mind!" She hissed, rejecting his offer.

Sylar dropped his hand to his lap. "Well Claire, it's certainly up to you," he said in a tone which suggested he didn't care what her decision was one way or the other, "But I'll leave the offer on the table so you can have plenty of time to think about it."

He went back to his plate of eggs. "Just so you know though, since the last time we met, I've acquired a few more abilities. I probably don't even need to open you up to get into that pretty blond head of yours anymore"

He said it casually, but Claire only glowered at him, knowing from first hand experience how those powers had been "acquired."

He smiled at her, obviously pleased at whatever reaction his words had elicited. "When you decide that you want me to do it, and you will, you know…, you just let me know."

* * *

Gabriel could tell that Claire was surprised and excited by his offer, even if she refused to admit it. He never really knew why he'd decided to "break" her that day on her kitchen table. Maybe jealousy that she had so many who loved her. So many whom she loved….

…Maybe because he had wanted her to be more like him. So they could share something together. He couldn't feel much emotionally for people – the hunger made sure of that. So in breaking Claire's ability, he'd ensured that she couldn't feel anything physically. It was the closest he had been able to come to his own wounded psyche at the time.

Loneliness. That's what they now shared.

Against his belief though, it had turned out that he _could_ care for someone. A fact made even easier (and more transparent) when the hunger was kept at bay. And in his "reformed" state, he was starting to feel a bit guilty about what he'd made her live with. Or, more aptly, live without.

It was true what he'd said too. Thanks to Lydia's ability, Sylar didn't need to kill anymore to take powers. Her empathic ability mixed with his own original ability in a way that was very… harmonious.

Actually, Sylar wasn't sure if he'd _ever_ really needed to kill to take the abilities of others, but he wasn't ready to deal with that line of thinking. Not yet. Deep thoughts for another day…

He was pretty sure he could deliver on what he'd just offered to Claire, though. And he could probably even do it without her noticing.

But were would the fun be in that?

He would wait. It would be a lot better for them both if she would just accept his offer. It would make their future together…easier.

Sylar thought of Claire, and how he really DID need her. Because of the balance of abilities within him, he thought that he really _could_ be human now. He just needed to be taught how. And he knew that it was Claire who had to show him.


	7. Chapter 7

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 7_

Claire refused to meet Sylar's eyes, but she could still feel his own on her. And she couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said. To be normal again. To feel…

There were so many things she wanted to feel…

Claire jumped as her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Busy morning."

Rolling her eyes at Sylar (she just didn't have the energy to muster up yet another nasty look), Claire dropped her plate in the sink on her way to the door.

The way her morning was going, she wasn't surprised at all by who was standing on the other side of the door.

Claire frowned at her uncle, turned silently on her heel, walked to her bedroom and shut the door. She just couldn't deal with anymore patronizing, non-helpful men today. Flopping on a bed that still smelled of Sylar, Claire buried her head in her arms, trying to block out the voices coming from the next room.

"Gabriel! Good to see you!"

"Peter."

"So how are things going here with Claire. Has she warmed up yet?'

Claire was sure she hurt a snort from the next room. "Warmed up? It was warmer on the titanic." Sylar sighed. "She hates me Peter. I fear this may be a lost cause."

"Nah. If I came around, Claire will. She's just young, that's all. And she _has_ had kind of a rough time of it…"

_A rough time_? Being stalked and tortured by a murderer, who then killed her father. And then that same murderer moving into her _home_? Not to mention the issues with the carnival, the government, her powers, and her school, and now her family trading her to that same murderer who made her life such a living hell? He called that _A ROUGH TIME?_

_Geez,_ thought Claire. _So nice of her uncle to notice._ Claire sunk even further into her sulk.

* * *

Gabriel lowered his voice so Claire couldn't hear the conversation. Even though she'd gone into the next room, he knew she'd been listening. And he didn't want her to hear what he said next.

"A rough time that I caused. Why do you think she will forgive me for that? Hell,_ I_ wouldn't forgive me for that."

"Because I _know_ you, Gabriel. And I know that if you've got anything, its tenacity. You'll wear her down. And I also know how you feel about her."

Gabriel frowned. He didn't want to just "wear her down," and he really didn't like Peter knowing his secrets. But then, Peter had been his only confidant for five years. Still, he'd never told Peter about his feelings for Claire. Mostly because Gabriel still wasn't sure _what_ those feelings _were_. It bothered him though that Peter, just by using Parkman's power, could see in his head in an instant what Gabriel had managed to keep hidden, even from himself, for over five years. And worse yet, he suspected Parkman knew it too. God knows what he'd seen when he'd went rummaging around in Gabriel's head.

He really hated Parkman.

"My feelings toward Claire are ambivalent at best." Gabriel replied. He refused to admit anything further. Not even to his best friend.

"Whatever." Peter smirked. He obviously wasn't buying it. "Just so you know though, I've thought about asking Parkman to burn some of the images I saw in your head out of my brain. She's my niece. I really don't need those kinds of mental images of her floating around in my own head.

_Goddamntelepaths!_ Gabriel glared at Peter. Perhaps now was a good time for his 'friend' to leave…

Gabriel's thoughts were interrupted by Claire opening the door. Inwardly he smiled, but made sure the emotion never reached his face. Apparently her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she'd decided to quit sulking and grace them with her presence.

He watched as Claire approached her uncle, and his gaze turned into a smirk created by a mixture of amusement, pride and vengeance as she kicked Peter right in the shin. _Hah_! _That's my girl!_

"Damn it Claire! What'd you do that for?" Peter shouted as he clutched at his leg.

"Oh, like you don't _know_!"

Claire ignored Sylar's amused expression as she took a seat on the floor, her back against the wall directly across from the couch full of annoying men.

"Geez Claire. Not even a hug for your uncle? I've missed you." Peter put on his best hurt look.

"Why don't you hug your best friend there? You know. The murderer who cut open my head? The guy sitting right next to you?"

"Huh? Oh, Gabriel? Don't worry. I already did." Peter grinned at his niece. He could tell he was annoying her, but if he could show her how comfortable he was around Gabriel, maybe it would give the guy a fighting chance with her.

Claire looked like she might vomit. _Oh god. They really _were _best friends, weren't they? Unless Sylar had done something to Peter…?_

"Now Claire" Peter continued… "I know what you're thinking… but no, Gabriel didn't do anything to me." He ignored her look of disbelief… "Look, that's why I'm here. To convince you that he's changed. I know you're father talked to you already, but I thought it might be better if you heard it from me…"

_Heard what? That her uncle had turned into some kind of serial-killer loving douche? And to think that he used to be her hero… _

"Heard what? That my loving family has traded me to a murderer for the sake of convenience?" She sneered.

Peter sighed, turned to his friend and shrugged. "Sorry Gabriel. I tried, but I don't think she's ready to listen to me yet either. I think you've got your work cut out for you…"

Silently, Gabriel thought the same thing, but frankly, he was starting to get a little annoyed by Claire's attitude. Was he really that bad?

"Peter. You can't seriously leave me here alone with him." Claire tried out of desperation, quickly shifting tactics when she realized that her last chance at salvation was slipping from her fingers. Peter was her last chance to get out of this mess. He HAD to see reason….

"Face it Claire. You're stuck with me. Not even your dear uncle Peter will save you now." Sylar folded his hands in his lap, looking far too smug for Claire's comfort.

Peter shot Sylar a disgusted look, but Sylar just shrugged. "Claire, you may not believe me now, but someday you'll forgive me. You'll probably even thank me. I promise you." Peter rose from the couch and reached for her, probably to try to draw her into a hug, but Claire would have none of it. Seeing her salvation crumble to dust before her eyes, Claire jumped up and away from her uncle's reach, ran back to her room and slammed the door behind her.

"Don't count on it." She whispered.

* * *

"Well, that certainly didn't go well." Peter turned to Gabriel. "You could have been more helpful, you know. Nicer perhaps?"

Nicer? Gabriel knew that "nice" would never win Claire over. Claire was a girl who thrived on conflict and angst. "Nice" would just get him tossed into the castoff pile, along with all of her other rejects.

Besides, when he was still trying on "good," "nice" was a mighty tall order.

"On the contrary, Peter. I think that went fabulously." Gabriel leaned back into the couch, a self satisfied look on his face.

Peter raised an eyebrow at Gabriel.

"You know how much I've always enjoyed the chase. This is going to be fun!"


	8. Chapter 8

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 8_

Claire counted the days on her calendar. She and Sylar had been living together for two weeks now exactly, and things had been surprisingly… uneventful. He hadn't tried to slice open her head once.

_Yet. _

And they'd already even established a routine. Of sorts.

_A weird, twisted routine…_

After that first night, Claire had begun sleeping on the sofa. Or at least _trying_ to. _And yes, she was very bitter to be driven from her own bed, thankyouverymuch. _Every night she'd fall asleep on the sofa (usually before he even got home), but then every morning she would wake up in her own bed. And most often, she'd be…_cuddling_.

Claire winced. It was NOT something they talked about.

Ever.

Claire was always the first to wake, and her morning routine consisted of her quickly and carefully detaching herself from…things…creeping out of bed, and silently making her way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Usually by the time she was through, HE would be up and making breakfast. She had to give him credit. He really was a decent cook. Well, better than her anyway, which really wasn't hard.

That's where her good will for him ended though. Claire didn't care _what_ mad breakfast skills he may have, he _still_ seemed to get off on making her miserable.

_Well, of course he does. He's a psychopath. Did you really expect anything else? _

And while she would never admit it, what made her the _angriest_ is that after breakfast he would just leave for the day. Well, not that he _would_ really, but that he _could_. He was working with her father again, apparently. "Company business," he'd always say on his way out the door. Only if she asked though. Usually he'd just say nothing and leave.

"Company business." Oh, how she hated that term.

And it just wasn't fair! Wasn't fair that he got to leave every day while she had to stay cooped up in her tiny apartment. Wasn't fair that she actually looked forward to him coming home at night because then at least she'd have some company. _How sick was _that_?_

Of course he always returned pretty late at night, and then he mostly ignored her when he was there… unless they were fighting again…Come to think of it, he really wasn't much company at all.

"God, how pathetic am I?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, or was it rhetorical?" An amused voice floated in from the next room.

Claire cringed and flushed in embarrassment. She hadn't meant to say that last part out loud. _Looks like her nemesis had come home early tonight. _

Claire refused to admit that her situation was mostly of her own making. Unfortunately because of her "stunt" she still couldn't show her face in public. Her father was so worried that "they" (the infamous "_they_", whoever _they_ were) would find her and dissect her, or do something equally as dreadful to her. So far she hadn't seen any "_they's_."

Not that she really even cared that much about what her father thought anymore.

But since Claire wasn't too keen on being dissected, it seemed that she was left with only one option. Work _for_ the company. Join Sylar and her father in whatever it was they were doing _this_ week. Hunting down people with abilities? Killing them? Locking them up? Running tests on them? She didn't even know anymore. And frankly, she didn't even really have the energy to care.

So she stayed cooped up in her tiny apartment, more of a self-imposed exile than anything, until she figured out what she was going to do.

Claire's thoughts turned to the man in the next room. Tonight was the first night he'd come home before 11pm since he'd been staying with her. Claire refused to consider what had kept him out so late every night. She seriously doubted it had been work.

It was still early yet tonight though, and a… Claire checked her calendar… Friday. Ironically, a date night. Claire first laughed at the thought that she didn't even bother to keep track of the days anymore, but then let go a wistful sigh. She hadn't been on a date in forever... And at the rate she was going, she probably never would again.

_And it was all HIS fault. She was trapped. Here. With HIM. _Claire felt herself getting more angry by the moment. _Her misery was all HIS fault!_

"Claire? Are you going to stay in there forever? Come out here."

Oh, she'd come out there alright…

Claire stormed into the living room and over to where Sylar was standing by the kitchen counter. "What Sylar? What could you possibly want _now_?" She demanded.

Claire got a morbid pleasure out of seeing him flinch. It was slight, but it was there.

"Claire, how many times must I ask you to call me Gabriel? You know I'm trying to leave that part of my life behind me." He admonished as if speaking to a child.

"Fine _Gabriel_," she sneered. "Maybe _you_ can leave that part of your life behind you, but what about all of those people you killed. What about their lives?"

"Well, obviously _their_ lives are now behind them as well."

_Oops. _He hadn't meant to say that, but her tone had put him on the defensive. He'd never been good in social situations, even _before_ he started killing people. Well… _especially_ before he started killing people, actually. There was probably a poetic link in there somewhere…

Gabriel hated to be yelled at…

…But he knew that getting angry wouldn't solve the problem at hand - Namely, the angry blond standing in front of him looking for all the world like she wanted him dead.

He had to calm them both down before he did something he would later regret.

"Claire, what's this about? We were getting along so well before."

Was he _serious_? He'd thought they'd been getting along?

Claire looked at him incredulously, turned, grabbed the butcher knife out of the block on the counter and stabbed it hilt-deep into Sylar's chest.

Sylar's face flashed with shock and pain, and Claire felt a strong sense of satisfaction. _Asshole_. _How's _that_ for getting along?_

Claire knew she was overreacting, but she was angry. Angry at her situation, angry from being cooped up so long, angry at him for forcing her into a position she didn't want to be in.

Angry at herself.

Claire looked down at her hand covered in Sylar's blood and was shocked to feel the seeds of guilt take hold. Perhaps he hadn't deserved that…. Her guilt washed to fear though, when she looked up at his face.

"Really, Claire? REALLY?" Sylar ripped the knife from his chest and threw it onto the counter in a single move without taking his eyes from the blond.

Claire was afraid. Deeply afraid. Sylar's eyes had gone black with anger, and…. His eyes… his face looked the same as he did that day when he came to her parent's house to play that morbid game of hide and seek. To slice open her skull.

_They looked_…_Predatory_…

Claire turned on her heal and ran. She slammed her bedroom door, but had little hope of it actually keeping him out. A panicked feeling of helplessness washed over her.

The door didn't last seconds. Wood and plaster flew at her as the door was blown off its hinges by his anger, and splinters that she couldn't feel embedded themselves in her flesh. The same anger that slammed Claire up against the wall and now held her there.

Held immobile, Claire had no choice but to watch as Sylar walked towards her, his wound already healed, his black t-shirt torn and still dripping blood.

And Claire was absolutely terrified. Even more terrified than the day he'd taken her ability. She'd pushed him too far and she knew it. And she also knew that now she would have to pay.

_What had she been thinking, goading a killer? Did she _want_ to die? _

She had thought she had before... All those times when she "tested" her abilities. Knowing that she would survive, yet still clinging to some small hope that she wouldn't. Some proof that she was _normal_ after all. Human.

But faced with a _real_ possibility of death, Claire was very quickly changing her mind. Because Claire knew that if anyone really could kill her, it would be Sylar. After all, he knew how things worked, and also, how they _didn't_.

Claire couldn't help but think that at least she'd die with the satisfaction of knowing that she'd been right. Knowing that Sylar couldn't change after all.

She'd never thought she'd regret being right….

Claire hung frozen, pressed against the wall as Sylar moved closer, a look of cold death in his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 9_

Gabriel advanced on Claire, not quite sure what he was going to do to her. She always had to go and ruin everything. Why couldn't she just be nice for a change? Why did she always have to put up a fight? Of course, her "fight" was one of the things that attracted him to her…

It was true that Gabriel had purposely been avoiding Claire. Staying out until he knew she'd be asleep and then coming home. It was just easier that way. He really _was_ trying to change and it was a hard thing to do when your housemate kept reminding you how evil you were. He'd thought if he gave her some time to adjust, she'd eventually soften up.

Well, it had been two weeks and she hadn't softened at all.

Gabriel had come home early tonight purposely. He figured he'd finally bite the bullet and try to spend some time with her. Maybe take her out to dinner and rent a movie. He figured she'd been cooped up in the house so much lately that she'd enjoy getting out for a while. So he'd found a discrete place in Chinatown where he didn't have to worry too much about her being recognized. He'd gotten her a wig. Hell, he'd even brought home flowers.

And the bitch had to go and stick a knife in his chest and ruin it all!

Well, Gabriel had had enough. It had been a stupid plan and it would never have worked anyway. He should just kill the bitch and get her out of his life for good.

Gabriel advanced on her until he was so close their noses almost touched. Claire was crying. He watched dispassionately as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Gabriel supposed he should feel bad for scaring her but instead he was glad. She deserved to be scared. She'd ruined his plans _and_ stabbed him. For some reason he just wasn't feeling that charitable.

"Why Claire? Why do you always have to fight me?" He asked her in that almost-whisper of his, his head cocked to the side.

Claire watched in horror as Sylar's hand slowly began to lift. _Oh god,_ she thought. _He's really going to do it. He's really going to kill me this time_.

_Would that be so bad?_ Her brain whispered…

"If you're going to do it, just do it and get it over with! I can't stand this anymore!"

Sylar's hand stilled as he looked at her, the corner of his lip curling up. He let out a low laugh. "Why Claire, I had no idea you were so eager. Well, if the lady insists. Your wish is my command."

His hand moved again, rising to her hair, and Claire squeezed her eyes shut preparing for…not pain, since pain was something she couldn't feel… preparing for… the anticipation of death?

All these years of running from him… and it was finally happening. Her worst nightmare come to pass.

Despite her considerable fear though, Claire couldn't deny that she also felt a morsel of relief. At least now she wouldn't have to outlive her friends and family. Wouldn't have to watch them die. Not if she were already dead. Wouldn't have to grow old all alone. That is, if she could even grow old.

Guess she'd never find out now.

Claire felt Sylar's hand tangle in her hair to hold her head still. His grip probably would have hurt her if she could still feel pain.

This was it then. Claire prepared to take her final breath and promised herself that no matter what, she wouldn't scream.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

But before she could inhale, his lips were on hers and it wasn't death at all that Claire embraced, but something _so_ much better...

It took Claire a moment to realize that she was kissing him back.

* * *

Sylar relaxed when Claire opened her mouth to him. Releasing both his hold on her hair and his telekinetic hold on her body, he gently eased her down the wall and into his arms.

He took a moment to find the place in her brain that allowed her to feel, and tweaked it just a little. Not all the way - he still wanted her to ask him to fix her, but the little he _had_ done would be enough for this moment. And hopefully the moments to follow…

Claire didn't seem to notice on any conscious level, but Gabriel could tell that his slight manipulation of her senses must have worked because a low moan escaped her throat and she began kissing him with even greater enthusiasm than before.

Gabriel let go of Claire's arms to curl his hands around her waist, and felt a wave of triumph when he felt them go around his neck.

Freedom had apparently helped Claire regain her senses though, because in the next instant she was trying to push him away.

_Oh no you don't. Not after _that_ kiss_.

Gabriel could tell that Claire wanted him. Her response to his kiss had proved it. And there was no way he was going to let her get away that easy. Sleeping next to her warm body for two weeks had been torture and yet he'd managed to control himself. _Two weeks._ Every night he'd picked her up from the couch, making sure she stayed asleep as he put her in the bed next to him. She'd always cuddled into him, yet he'd kept his hands to himself, hoping that she'd eventually soften toward him.

He thought she hadn't softened, but he'd been wrong.

Her kiss had proved that.

Gabriel recaptured Claire's arms and held them behind her back with a single hand, while the other tangled in her hair again, (probably a bit to roughly, he noticed abstractly), but effectively immobilizing her head, pulling it back to expose her mouth to him.

His lips quickly silenced her protests.

And as he knew she would, Claire again returned his kiss with enthusiasm.

* * *

_This is _sooo_ wrong,_ Claire thought, trying to distract herself from the sensations which were overwhelming her. _How could she be letting him do this? How could she want to do this with _him_? This was _Sylar_ for godssakes! _

But her body didn't seem to care. For the first time in a long time she was feeling something, and it felt _good_! Claire knew it was wrong, but she didn't want it to stop.

Gabriel again released Claire's hands only to grab her around her tiny waist to lift her up. Claire wrapped her legs around him willingly, and Gabriel turned and tumbled them both to the bed.

Sylar's… No, _Gabriel's_… weight pressed her into the mattress, and she shuddered with anticipation as she felt his arousal. _Was she really going to let this happen? _

_Could she really stop him if she tried?_

_Could she really stop herself?_

Gabriel's mouth left hers only to trail molten-hot kisses down her neck, causing Claire to moan. With the loss of his lips on hers, Claire felt like she should again protest, but the fire of his kisses on her body just felt too _good_. She didn't want it to stop. Her brain felt so fuzzy, almost as if she were drunk on passion.

Claire kept trying to remind herself that this was Sylar. _SYLAR_. But her fingers buried deep in his thick hair and her body responding to his manipulations as if it had a mind of its own didn't seem to care.

As Gabriel reached for the button of her jeans, any lingering common sense flew right out the window as Claire let the waves of sensation consume her.


	10. Chapter 10

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 10_

Gabriel unfastened the button to her jeans with one hand and pulled the zipper down with deft fingers, exposing the tiny pink panties beneath. Pink. A color he detested. Unless it was on _her_.

The girl wore a lot of pink.

He wondered if her bra would match….

Deciding to find out, Gabriel's hand left her panties and moved up, sliding over her flat stomach and under her thin grey t-shirt, the fabric traveling with him as his hand caressed first her soft stomach and then upwards to her breasts. Gabriel almost turned his telekinesis to finishing the job he'd started with her jeans, but he rejected the thought after brief consideration. He didn't want to do anything that would scare her. Besides, if he did that, there were too many sensations he might miss out on.

He wasn't a cheater.

Gabriel's hand found a perfect lace-clad breast and he smiled as he felt Claire's nipple grow hard at the barest touch of his rough skin. His pleasure was short lived however, as Claire drew in a sharp breath. Gabriel felt her tense beneath him and made a quick decision.

There was no way he was going to let her escape now! Deciding it was best not to give her the chance to protest, he grabbed the fabric of the shirt and yanked in one swift motion, feeling immense satisfaction as the fabric tore away from her body.

His lips captured hers again before she could object, and he flung the piece of offending material away from them.

_Yup. Pink_.

Pink was his new favorite color.

He captured her breast again his hand and probed her mouth with his tongue, a bit rough in his enthusiasm. He could tell she was scared, but she was also aroused. _Ah yes. Empathy could have great uses here…._

Gabriel realized he was still angry at Claire. Not about being stabbed really, but about the fact that she refused to forgive him. That she wouldn't admit she cared for him. Wouldn't even try to have a friendship, let alone any other kind of relationship with him. Claire was punishing him deliberately and he was tired of it.

Now it was his turn to punish her.

And he would make sure she enjoyed it.

* * *

Claire gasped when he tore her shirt way, but her shock was quickly silenced by Gabriel's mouth. Things were moving way to fast for her. This was defiantly not how she'd imagined her first time would be.

And she'd _never, _not in a million years_,_ thought that it would be with HIM. What was she _doing_?

God, what would her family think?

Actually, given their current disposition to Sylar, they might give him a medal.

She really needed to NOT think about her family right now…

Claire moaned low in her throat as his kiss deepened and her skin reddened in embarrassment. How could someone she hated so much make her feel so good?

Her hands burrowed in his hair and Claire tried to tell herself it was to push him away, but in reality it was simply because she wasn't sure where else to put them. He seemed to take her movement as encouragement though, and his lips again left hers and began a journey down her body, finally landing at her breast.

Claire arched her back, almost lifting off the bed as he drew one pert nipple into his mouth. _Oh God!_

She'd done some heavy petting with the boys at school, but she'd never gone this far. How had she missed out on this?

* * *

Sylar felt her hands in his hair and took that as a suggestion to move down. At least the girl knew what she wanted!

He made quick work of her bra, and his tongue played with the bead of first one nipple, then the other. Gabriel took his time, as he wanted to commit every image, feeling, taste and sound to memory. He was finally getting what he wanted… what he'd wanted before he even KNEW it was what he wanted, and he was damn well going to enjoy it!

Leaving her breasts, Gabriel's mouth trailed down Claire's flat stomach to the elastic of her panties. Hooking a finger inside the band, he gave a swift yank, and the panties all but disintegrated in his hand.

God, she was beautiful!

And then she twisted out from under him and shot off the bed, naked. It took Gabriel's brain a moment to register the action.

_What the hell? _

Well, "hard to get" was definitely something he could work with. The game was on!

Gabriel rose up on his arms and smiled before turning to pursue the girl.

* * *

_Oh God! What had she almost done?_ Claire backed herself to the wall, looking around desperately for some clothes as she tried to cover her nakedness. While it was dark outside, the single table lamp illuminated things a little too brightly for Claire's comfort. She couldn't do this with Sylar! _No matter how good he made her feel…_

_It was so hard to think though… Why was it so hard to think?_

Claire watched warily as Sylar rose from the bed, noting in frustration that he was now between her and the door. _Why hadn't she just run out the door? It didn't matter if she was naked, at least she'd be alive and unmolested! _

_Oh who are you kidding Claire? _She scoffed at herself._ You know he would just catch you. He _always_ catches you…._

Gabriel stared at her a moment with an unreadable look on his face, and then spoke, his head cocked to the side.

"Look Claire, if this is about the panties, I'll buy you new ones." He stated, obviously amused. "It's not like I can't afford it. I have to say that having the "Midas touch" does come in pretty handy…"

Oh God. Anger rushed back into Claire, competing with fear for the position of dominance as she remembered how he'd gotten that power. "Just stay away from me. This was a mistake! A huge, horrible mistake!"

"Huge? Why Claire, thank you so much for noticing."

Claire Blanched.

"But in for a penny, in for a pound Claire. You want this, I know you do. I can _feel_ how much you want this. Or did you forget that empathy is one of my abilities?" He shook his head, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'm sorry Claire, but it wouldn't do either of us any good if I let you stop this now."

Claire watched as Sylar advanced on her, pausing only to strip off the black t-shirt he'd been wearing.

Her eyes were drawn to his chest, waking memories of mornings where she'd woken up, her head resting on its wonderful firmness.

_No!_

Claire made to run for the shattered door, but was held immobile again by a force she couldn't see.

"Sylar, no…. Please." She whispered. Claire knew he was right and she detested him for it. Detested _herself_ for it. And she was still half hoping that he wouldn't listen to her.

_What is _wrong_ with me!_

All of those nights, lying in bed with him, Claire had dreamed about this, but she could barely admit it to herself it was so very wrong. She couldn't let herself do this. She just _couldn't_! He was a _murderer_. He'd killed her biological parents for godsakes! She couldn't let him in. Eventually he'd go bad, start killing people again and then she'd have to kill him.

She wouldn't be able to stand it…

"Claire." He was within touching distance of her again, so touch he did. Gabriel trailed a finger down her cheek, along her neck and over one still taught nipple. "Claire, Claire, Claire. Why do you continue to resist? I KNOW you want this. I can _feel_ it. Is it because you know I like the chase? Are you doing this for _me_, Claire?"

His voice was smooth and steady washing over her and Claire's throat went dry as her body responded to his confident manipulations. How could one finger produce so much pleasure?

"Because really, while I appreciate the sentiment, I can assure you it's not necessary."

Claire groaned, barely registering his words through a haze of renewed passion.

Held immobile, Claire couldn't touch him. Couldn't do anything. It was both exciting and crazy-making. _She needed… needed something… needed to stop this? No, needed to touch_…

He laughed and she heard the sound of a zipper moving.

"Sylar…"

"_Gabriel_, Claire. Gabriel. Don't make me angry right now…" He whispered into her ear, leaning into her.

He kissed her ear, nuzzling his face into her hair and then returning to her ear and throat for more kisses.

"This is your chance Claire," he murmured between kisses. "You get _one_. Tell me you want me to stop. If you tell me to stop right now, I will." He had to give her that much, although he wasn't sure he was being truthful even to himself. _Could_ he stop? If he raped her though, she would _never_ trust him.

_Plus, he wanted her to ask for it. To beg._

"Gabriel…." He closed his eyes, not sure what he would hear. He could feel her passion, but was it enough? He had to up the ante… Gabriel trailed his fingers down her body to find the warm, moist apex between her legs. Claire gasped.

"Oh God!"

His fingers moved and spasms of pleasure coursed through her body. He looked at her face, her eyes tightly shut, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't…" His hand stilled. _Don't?_ Well crap. He really thought he'd had her. He _would_ be true to his word though. Gabriel started to pull his hand away.

"Don't….stop…."

_What was this? _

'"Don't. Stop? Or, Don't Stop? Which is it Claire? I'm getting confused here." He lied. Her words had been crystal clear. Gabriel punctuated the question with a few more movements of his hand.

Claire gasped… "Don't stop!"

Oh God! She couldn't believe she'd said it! She meant it though…She never wanted him to stop…

Gabriel grinned. _Perfect_. He freed himself from his pants and eased into her tight wetness.

* * *

Claire gasped and stiffened at the brief pain of his entry. _Pain_? It had been so long since she'd felt pain that now it almost felt good!

A low moan escaped from his throat and Gabriel stilled, catching her gaze with his own shocked one. Something in his eyes changed then though, and Gabriel relaxed. He'd released his telekinetic hold on her when he'd first entered her, and he now maneuvered so that Claire's legs wrapped around his waist and her back was supported by the wall as he thrust into her. The plaster of the wall was rough against her back and only increased the sensations as he drove himself into her. Lost in endless waves of passion, Claire found Gabriel's mouth with her own as her body matched his, thrust for thrust.


	11. Chapter 11

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 11_

Claire awoke feeling a little groggy and out of sorts, and it took her a moment to orient herself. While she had grown accustomed to waking up in her bed wrapped in Sylar's arms, she was defiantly not used to doing so naked! Since Sylar had moved in, Claire had taken to sleeping in yoga pants and a t-shirt, just to be cautious. So why was she now naked? Claire tried to take a deep breath but as alarmed to find she couldn't. She looked down into thick brown hair in shock. Sylars head was resting on her chest!

Claire's sleep-addled brain finally began to focus and memories of the night before rapidly gained clarity. At once she remembered everything.

Claire's breath caught and she did her best to remain motionless lest she wake Sylar.

_Holy crap! Oh no! What have I done?_

She remembered being so afraid that he was going to kill her. But then he hadn't. Instead he'd kissed her. And worse yet, she'd kissed him back! And that had only been the beginning!

He'd done something to her. He must have! Claire convinced herself. How else could she have felt such… pleasure? Claire winced internally at the thought.

_Could he have…? Had he fixed her? _

Claire pinched her thigh hard enough to break skin and frowned in disappointment. She had felt no pain. But that couldn't be right. She _had_ felt pain last night. And pleasure.

Hadn't she?

But how could she feel it then and not now? Mind control?

Of course. And if he'd done it once, he might just do it again! Claire started to panic. She couldn't let that happen. Once was humiliating enough! She would _not_ be turned into Sylar's sex slave! She had to get out of here before he woke up!

Claire tried to ease away from Sylar gently but stopped when she felt the arm around her waist tense.

"Well good morning, Claire." He murmured. He sounded drowsy and… content?

Claire flinched and slammed her eyelids shut before they made eye contact. His voice had sounded far too smug. _And why wouldn't he be?_ Her brain asked. She just couldn't bear to see a matching look on his face though, so she kept her eyes firmly closed.

Claire hoped fervently that maybe if she kept her eyes closed long enough, he would just disappear.

"Claire," he said in that tone that sounded half mocking and half exasperated, like he was trying to force reason on the unreasonable, "I know you're awake. You should just open your eyes and face the music. It's not like you have to do the walk of shame. It's YOUR bed after all."

* * *

Gabriel knew he was being a jerk, but he'd known the instant she'd awoke, and he could feel her getting more tense by the moment so he'd HAD to say something. Plus, he'd gotten a bit angry when she hadn't spoken to him and he refused to put up with the silent treatment. He knew that if he was a jerk she'd at least talk to him. She didn't though.

_Hum… Usually she was always so predictable in her anger. _

Claire was going to have to come to terms with what they'd done eventually. Gabriel also knew that she was likely having some very big feelings right now. God only knew what was going on inside that pretty blond head of hers. Odds were though, that she'd already found a way to blame him for everything they'd done and alleviate herself of all guilt anyway.

Well, hell. If that's the way it was going to be he'd gladly accept the blame. Last night had been incredible.

Not that he'd admit that to _her_.

He looked down at her face. She refused to look at him, keeping her eyes firmly shut. Gabriel was struck with a spark of compassion for the girl. He didn't want her to feel bad about what had happened between them. He wanted her to _enjoy_ thinking about it. And he wanted her to want to do it again.

Given Claire's rigid demeanor and current silent treatment though, Gabriel realized his wishful thoughts weren't going to take him anywhere this morning. And with that also came the realization that he'd much rather she was angry with _him_, than angry, or worse yet, disgusted, with herself.

Well, that would be easy enough to accomplish.

"So was that really your first time, or is that just one of the _perks_ of your ability?"

* * *

Claire squeezed her eyes even tighter in humiliation. There was no way she was answering _that_ question. There were just some things he didn't need to know about her. Ever.

She couldn't possibly admit to him that he'd been her _first_….

"So talkative this morning. I guess if you're not going to say anything it must mean that you're up for round two?" he chuckled and moved his hand across her smooth, flat abdomen. So nice… Gabriel committed her features to memory. "Or would it be round four or five at this point? As feisty as you were last night, I kind of lost count…"

His low voice rolled across her senses and stirred up memories from the night before, making her tingle in places that she shouldn't be tingling.

_Oh God! She couldn't do this! She couldn't make small talk with Sylar after last night!_

Claire attempted to bolt out of bed, but once again found herself immobilized. Not by his ability this time, but by his hand. It was like a concrete slab across her belly holding her in place.

"Now common, Claire. I thought girls usually _liked_ to talk after sex."

"What did you do to me?" She managed to whisper. Her first words to him that morning.

"Do? Well, I thought that was fairly obvious. But if you really want a recap of last night… first, my hand went…"

"NO!" She shouted, stopping him _and_ his hand mid-sentence, desperate to avoid a repeat performance. "You know what I mean."

"No Claire, I really don't." He had a suspicion though. Did she really think that little of him that she believed he would use mind control to get into her pants?

"You used mind control on me."

_Huh. Apparently she did_. He really didn't know why he felt surprised.

"No, actually. I didn't." Gabriel was quickly growing angry again and that anger crushed any compassion for the girl he'd felt earlier. Why couldn't she just enjoy what they'd had? "Sorry Claire, but last night? That was passion. That was all you. You _wanted_ me. In fact, you _asked_ me for it!"

He smirked at her. "_Don't stop._ Your words. Remember that, Claire?"

She flinched. Yes, she remembered, but… "But I felt…"

His eyebrow raised…"Yes?"

"Nothing." There was no way that she was going to admit to him what he'd made her feel. "I felt nothing. And I _still_ feel nothing for you. Except hatred. Last night changes nothing." The same script, but her words lacked the energy that usually accompanied them.

Her statement would have made him angry if he hadn't known she was lying. Her words still hurt though.

Gabriel DID felt a bit guilty for not being completely honest with her. He'd told the truth about not using his abilities to control her. No, her passion had been all hers. But he _had_ tweaked her a bit though, so that she could _enjoy_ what it was they were doing. Where was the harm in that? He'd thought it was only fair. After all, _he'd_ certainly enjoyed their activities.

Claire didn't need to know that right now though. He sensed the information wouldn't go over too well, given the circumstances. He'd tell her later. Once they'd grown closer. Much closer.

For now though, maybe she'd think it was something unique to him. He certainly wouldn't do anything to discourage that line of thinking…

"This will _never_ happen again." Gabriel looked down. Claire had finally opened her eyes again but she was still refusing to look at him, instead focusing her gaze on the far wall. "I mean it Sylar. Never. I want you gone from my house today." Her words were irrelevant. What worried him was the flatness of their tone.

What she was asking though simply wasn't going to happen.

"Now Claire, that wasn't the deal and you know it. I'm not going anywhere. Remember your family? They want me here. To protect you. And you… well, you don't want me to _backslide_, remember?" And even more importantly, Gabriel didn't want their relationship, if you could call it that, to "backslide."

"I'm NOT going to be your whore." Claire hissed, the hatred in her words finally making her sound like the old Claire.

Gabriel's smile of amusement was barely masked anger. Would she NEVER stop? "Well Claire. I wasn't _offering_ to pay you…"

She went even more ridged than before.

"…But there's no reason why we can't enjoy a nice _friendship_. Friends with benefits-type relationship perhaps?" He suggested, knowing full well that it would just make her all the angrier. At this point he was beyond caring.

_Friends with benefits?_ _He _had_ to be joking_! There was no way in _hell_ that she would let that happen! Last night had been a horrible mistake. He had to have controlled her, or tricked her or something! _Whatever_ he'd done, she would _not_give him the chance to do it again!

As they had been talking, Claire had carefully reached under the side of the mattress with her free arm, remembering the knife she'd hidden there just two weeks ago. Fingers finding the handle, Claire's anger escalated.

Sylar was apparently still thinking about his last comment as his fingers made leisurely swirls over her abdomen, because he didn't notice Claire bring the knife up and plunge it into the back of his skull until it was too late.

Sylar's eyes glazed over as his full weight landed on top of her. Seizing the opportunity, Claire shoved him off her, jumped up, threw on the first clothes she could find ran for the door.

And as he slipped into unconsciousness, Gabriel was afforded one last thought…

_That_ _BITCH!_


	12. Chapter 12

*Disclaimer* I do not own any of these characters. All characters are the property of NBC (as far as I know).

_Chapter 12_

Opening his eyes, Gabriel pulled the knife from the back of his skull and threw it across the room in disgust.

Getting stabbed by Claire was getting old real fast. He might even start to taking personally.

If he was able to die.

But thankfully he was a lot harder to kill than even Claire realized.

Only one thought consumed his mind as he headed for the bathroom to shower and change.

_Maybe it was time for that bitch to die after all._

* * *

Claire raced out of the apartment and ran for what seemed like miles before she finally allowed herself to slow down and catch her breath.

Only then did she realize she'd left some important things behind when making her break for freedom - specifically her purse and her cell phone. So essentially she had no money and no way to contact anyone for help.

She didn't care though. She wasn't going back.

So where _could_ she go? Her brain sifted through options furiously as she worked to return her breathing to normal.

She certainly couldn't go to her fathers. Claire doubted that Noah would send her back if she told him what had happened, but the problem was that she _couldn't_ tell him what happened. She couldn't bear the humiliation. No F'ing way. She couldn't even bring herself to think about what she'd done, let alone get up the nerve to tell anyone else.

Sleeping with Sylar? What had she been thinking! Claire suppressed a shudder and tried to refocus her brain back on the problem at hand.

But by that same logic, Peter's was right out too. Her Mom? No, same problem.

Lost in thought, she arrived at the University before she realized it had even been her destination.

It shouldn't have been though, since it was listed as "one of the places she definitely wasn't supposed to be." Seriously, her father had made her a list. And, he'd stuck it on her fridge.

Well at any rate, she was here now. And it probably wasn't as bad as Noah had been trying to make it out anyway. He was probably just exaggerating as another one of his many lies meant to keep her under control.

Whatever. Claire had managed to grab a ball cap when she'd run out the door, and had stuffed her unbrushed hair up under it. With her hair up and wearing the baggy sweatshirt she'd grabbed, unless she drew attention to herself, she probably wouldn't even be noticed.

Claire kept her head down and kept walking.

Where else? She couldn't go to Angela's either. It had been her grandmother's premonitions which had gotten her in this mess in the first place. Claire began to feel a burning in the pit of her stomach. Obviously psychosomatic since she couldn't really feel pain. She smiled sadly. So that's what abandonment felt like.

Looking up from per path, she was mildly surprised to see that she'd walked to the quad. _Good a place as any to ponder my life, I guess._

So discretely making her way to one of the trees on the far edge, she sat down and leaned her back against the rough trunk, trying in vain to figure out what she would do now.

* * *

It was a nice warm day and Claire had somehow managed to doze off, however, rough hands hauling her upright jerked her awake quickly enough.

Claire's surprised scream was muted by a hand over her mouth and the next thing she felt was a slight pressure on her arm. Her brain going almost instantly fuzzy, she guessed the pressure must have been a sedative.

Thanks to her gift, most sedatives didn't work on her, and even the strong ones wore off pretty quickly. This one must have been different though, because quicker than a thought everything went black.

* * *

Claire came-to on a rock-hard mattress in a cold and dimly-lit concrete cell. Moaning, she rolled over, still feeling a bit groggy from whatever she'd been given. Trying to sit up took concerted effort, but finally she managed to right herself.

Standing would be another matter altogether, however.

Assessing her situation, Claire saw that she was in a cell approximately 10 feet by 10 feet, the only objects accompanying her the bed she sat on and a toilet attached to the wall. She really hoped she'd be able to get herself out of the current situation before using _that_ filthy thing became a necessity.

"Good, you're awake." A voice boomed, and if she could feel pain, she knew her head would be hurting from the stark intrusion about now. Looking around Claire saw a small speaker in the top right-hand corner of the cell.

"Where am I" she asked? She was only slightly surprised when she didn't get a response.

The steel door slid open and two men quickly approached her. One hit her in the stomach forcing the breath from her lungs, and while she was bent over, the other yanked her hands behind her back, securing them tightly with zip-tie cuffs.

The thugs manhandled her down a long narrow hallway until they reached a metal door at the end. The first thug roughly thrust her inside, and as she stumbled trying to catch her balance, she quickly tried to assess her situation. They'd brought her to what looked like a doctor's office. There was a central table and carts lined with rows of sharp-looking tools.

_Oh my god, _Claire thought in horror._ Could dad have been right?_ _Were they really planning to peel my flesh off over and over just to watch my power regenerate me?_ Even though Claire wouldn't' feel the pain of being flayed alive, that prospect still held no appeal to her whatsoever.

In fact, it scared the crap out of her!

Claire dug her heals into the concrete floor, but it didn't slow her captors down at all. Instead, they merely drug her the rest of the way to the table. As she got closer Claire could see the straps and cuffs dangling to the floor and she started to struggle in earnest.

"No, please! My dad is Noah Bennet. Just call him! He'll be very upset if you hurt me!"

_Godohgodohgod, if they were government agents, PLEASE let them have heard of her dad…._

As the words left her mouth an older man came in followed by two younger individuals, a man and woman who looked to be in their early 30's. All wearing scrubs and white lab coats.

_Oh no. This wasn't good. Not good at all…_

"We have no concern about your father, Ms. Bennet," the older one who looked like all the pictures of Freud she'd ever seen, said. "Our orders come from much higher up."

"Please," Claire pleaded. "I'll do anything. Just let me go!"

Ignoring her, he turned his gaze to her captors. "Prepare her and strap her to the table gentlemen, I need to collect the preliminary labs. Then we can start the harvesting."

Like she was a rag doll, Claire's clothes were cut off her and she was forced down on the table. Her struggles were useless and soon enough Claire found herself strapped to the table, her wrists constrained by cuffs and her legs held immobile by straps wrapped tightly across her thighs and calves.

Tears streamed down her face as she watched the two thugs leave. Horizontal as she was, she could only see the older doctor out of the corner of her eye, though she could hear the other two clanging instruments somewhere else in the room.

Even though she knew it was useless, she tried to cringe away when the older man approached, tear streaming down her face.

"Now Ms. Bennet, it will be best for everyone if you cooperate. And from what we've heard about you, this won't hurt _you_ at all.

The first needle jabbed into her arm and she screamed.

* * *

Claire had been missing for most of the day now, and it would be getting dark soon. Gabriel had thought she would come home once she'd had the chance to cool off, but he should have known better.

It was starting to look like he was going to have to track her down if he wanted to kill her.

_Ah the good old days. _

Gabriel smiled as he imagined the look on her face when he finally found her. The fear that would shine from her eyes. Her running would only make his victory that much more sweet.

For Sylar, the game was on.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

Claire whimpered and for once she was glad that she couldn't feel anything. She knew who these people were now. Or at least she knew what they did. And why they wanted HER.

She couldn't see them, she could only hear. They'd already taken her eyes and new ones hadn't regenerated yet. Her eyes were the first thing they took. After her blood, that was.

Now she could feel them cutting into her stomach. The smells of antiseptic and blood making her queasy. Or maybe it was just the sensation of cutting making her feel like she was going to throw up.

Knowing that it was her blood she smelled didn't make it any better.

She heard a suctioning noise and then felt a weird kind of tingling.. maybe an emptiness? And she knew they'd removed something else from her body. With her limited knowledge of medicine, and without her eyes, she could be sure what.

Tears leaked from her abused tear ducts, dripped into her empty sockets and mixed with her blood to run down the sides of her head and into her hair.

They'd taped her mouth shut long ago so she could no longer scream. Or later, beg. All she could make now was make pathetic little gurgling noises in her throat. She could still hear everything though.

She wasn't sure if that was a blessing, or a curse.

"Ok, I'm ready for the cooler. This one's a healthy one." She knew that was the older doctor by the responses of his voice. Sounded like he was probably a chain-smoker.

Maybe one of her lungs was meant for _him_.

"Do you think she'll keep breathing when we take her heart?"

"I guess we'll know soon, wont we? Though I've heard that she can regenerate from pretty much anything. I think we're going to be in business for a long, long time with this one."

Claire cringed and retreated farther back into her mind. _A long time?_She'd been here less than a day and she knew she was already losing her mind. How much longer could she hold out?

Claire's muffled sobs filled the room and she cursed herself. How could she have been so stupid as to go outside? Why hadn't she listed to her father?

Then she cursed Sylar. This was all _his_ fault! Though deep down, if she were honest with herself, she knew that it wasn't.

Claire was sobbing so hard lost in thoughts of her own torture and demise that it took her while to register that the three doctors had finally stopped their inane chatter. In fact, it was suddenly quite quiet in the operating room. Had they decided to break for dinner?

Did they decide to go celebrate a job well done?

Hopefully she gave another tug at her wrist restrains, but while no one came to quiet her down, her struggling was futile.

Had they left her here then? Until her organs regenerated and they could have another go at her?

Claire squeezed her eyelids closed tight over eyeless sockets and prayed that when they removed her heart they would actually kill her.

* * *

Gabriel looked at the bodies around him without remorse. It had taken him longer than it should have to track Claire, especially given that she had been so close, and now it was early into the next morning. If he didn't hurry, it would be dawn soon, and in the daylight it would be harder to maintain cover for what he needed to do.

He'd found her at a lab just a few blocks from the University campus. How predictable.

Rather distractedly, Gabriel wondered if killing these people had been a "bad guy" thing to do. It had felt right, but morally? He couldn't help but wonder what Peter would have done.

But then he'd seen Claire strapped to that operating table and decided that he didn't one whit about morals. Those men had deserved to die. And they'd deserved to die slowly and painfully.

Gabriel experienced a moment of disquiet at the thought that there might actually be people out there who were worse than him.

Claire was strapped down and sobbing, but she was still struggling and Gabriel experienced a moment of pride. As scared as she must be, even wearing nothing but her own blood and guts she was still trying to fight.

Gabriel stood over Claire, silently assessing the macabre situation. Her eyes had been removed, although he could see that they were already beginning to regenerate. Her abdomen was cut open with what looked like the Y of a morticians cut, and upon further inspection, it appeared that one or both of her kidneys had been removed and her liver had been the next to go, having already been pulled halfway out of her body.

Her skin was already regenerating and the incision was trying to close over the liver.

_Fascinating._

The surgeons had probably had to keep slicing her open in order to remove the organs, he reasoned idly.

_And people thought HE was sick._

Gabriel gently put the liver back in the general location of where he thought it belonged. After all, he couldn't kill Claire himself if she was too injured to appreciate his efforts.

At his touch she whimpered and he realized that he'd never announced his presence. She'd probably thought the butchers had returned.

Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "Claire, its Gabriel. You're going to be alright. At least until we get home, and then I fully plan to kill you myself."

He waited for a response and then frowned when he realized he'd forgotten to remove the duct tape keeping her silent. He tried to remove it as gently as possible.

"S…Sylar?" Claire whimpered, and Gabriel felt the pangs of conscience. He quickly moved to loosen her hands and legs, and then stiffened when she grabbed at him, fumbling until she managed to get her arms around him. Was she trying to attack him? Even now?

Her arms went around his neck and to his surprise she pulled herself close. He let himself relax as he realized that she was seeking comfort. Tentatively, he returned the embrace.

* * *

Claire buried her fact in Gabriel's chest. Never had she been so happy to see anyone in her life. What a sick irony that it happened to be _him_. She barely even registered the fact that he'd said he was going to kill her himself. Instead all she heard was that he was going to take her home and away from this dreadful place.

"You came for me?" She whispered.

There was a long silence and Claire began to wonder if he'd heard her.

Gabriel honestly didn't know how to respond. This was a Claire he wasn't used to.

"I came for my ball cap." He said, spying it cast off to the side of the room, and then winced. _Why the hell had he said THAT?_ "You just happened to be here too."

Claire began to shake even harder and silently he cursed himself. Here she was traumatized out of her mind, and all he'd done was be a dick and now she was crying again. Claire, naked, bloody and crying in his arms. He _should_ be thrilled.

Instead, his eyes searched the room for a blanket. Barely even registering the headless bodies which littered the floor, he quickly located the object of his search on a chair in the corner of the room. He watched as the blanket levitated and then drape itself around Claire's shoulders, which was kind of awkward since she was still draped around his neck.

_Good. Now maybe she'll stop crying._ He nodded in satisfaction.

But then Claire hiccupped and he realized that there was some laughing mixed in with her sobs. His whole body relaxed. Maybe she would be ok after all.

Unless she was going hysterical on him…?

"You're such an asshole."

He smiled and said, "I really like that hat."

* * *

Thankfully, Gabriel had brought a car so the trip back to their tiny apartment only took about 15 minutes.

The more he thought about it, the more bothered he was that they'd found Claire so quickly. And the fact that they'd already had a setup prepared for her made him even more upset.

It didn't matter who _they_ were, it just proved that there were people out there looking for her and wanting to use her for her gifts.

They'd have had to have someone on the inside. Or maybe just someone watching the school? He didn't know, but it all seemed a little too thought out to be a coincidence. He wasn't looking forward to mentioning this to Noah.

Especially since Noah was sure to blame him. Gabriel smirked. _I wonder if she'll tell her precious daddy about our evening together? _Of course, the fact that she hadn't run straight into Noah's arms was a good indication that she probably wouldn't.

Sylar looked over at the girl huddled on the leather seat next to him under the big blue wool blanket and wondered how he'd come to this. How both of them had come to this, really.

It seemed like just yesterday he'd been driven by nothing but his hunger. A pawn to it really, yet things seemed so much simpler then.

He noted that Claire's eye's had almost fully regenerated, but they still had a cloudy haze so he doubted she could see anything yet. Maybe light and dark like severe cataracts?

She hadn't said anything since he'd carried her out of the building.

He knew that she couldn't feel any pain – he'd made sure to flip that switch in her head back off after their night together – he still wanted that "gift" as a bargaining chip… But emotionally?

Well, he didn't have the experience to talk to that. He'd usually left his victims dead.

Like he'd left the three "doctors" and their six muscle-bound henchmen. Every one of them decapitated by the flick of a wrist. Not knowing where Claire was, he hadn't wanted to take the time to fully enjoy it. To make them suffer. But now, looking at Claire, now he wished he'd gone a bit slower. Savored their pain a bit more before ending their lives. Maybe give them a taste of their own medicine.

He wondered briefly if he could use one of his talents to reanimate them, just so he could make them suffer before killing them again.

His quiet laugh shared the bitter sound of irony.

Gabriel pulled the black BMW into the garage of the apartment, eased into their allotted space, and turned off the engine, still not really sure what to say to Claire.

She'd started when she'd heard the engine stop, and turned to stare at him with sightless eyes. A slight sigh passed her lips, followed by an almost inaudible "thank you."

Gabriel smiled and pushed open the car door.

They were home.


End file.
